Biography of Raynette Eitel
Raynette Eitel grew up in the Southwest, knowing she was a poet as soon as she could spell. She left New Mexico upon her marriage and moved to Colorado Springs where she was wife, mother, and later, teacher. She is retired now and living in Las Vegas where she writes and has given workshops in poetry. She likes to think her muse dwells in both Hawaii and Sedona, Arizona. Her poetry has been published in a wide variety of literary publications, newspapers and anthologies. Her first book, Harsh Country, a collection of poems about the Southwest, was published by XLibris. Her second book, Earthen Jar, is s collection of many kinds of poetry written throughout her life. Her third book, Preludes to An Allelujah Chord, was published by XLibris in 2010 and is a collection of Christmas poems. Should you want to order one of these books, contact Raynette through Poemhunter and she can tell you about the mailing cost.
Raynette Eitel's Works:
Harsh Country,2008 Xlibris Press
Earthen Jar,2009 XLibris Press
Preludes to an Allelujah Chord,2010 XLibris Press
Raynette Eitel Poems
Bury Me With Chocolates
Bury me with chocolates, The kind I love so well. Send dark and bitter candy wreaths With leaves of caramel.
Memories Are Only
Memories are only Tattoos on the brain, Pain-etched, day by day, Brush-stroked in joy.
There is something so comforting in the sound of a bassoon singing strongly and deeply, filling all the dark corners of a concert hall.
How To Critique A Poem
Go slowly. Nibble it around the edges and sigh. Lick the sugar off the top then close your eyes, remembering
1. Memorial Day,1949
They fling their flowers quickly out to sea. Each petal is a prayer upon a wave, Pressing against the tide deliberately. They dare to watch, recalling all they gave
Poem Soup Take one large scoop of words, Blend in rhythm
Things That Make Me Cry
The soft percussive sound of your wings beating on high as they head into the blue infinity of sky…
I Could Stay
The clock no longer ticks But pounds past each minute Each hour Each morning and night
Year by year I feel youth escaping from my pores, leaving behind this wrinkled flesh and old songs flaking across my parched lips.
The girl walked beneath stars showing and moon glowing, gathering night poems. Then, as a gift sent from heaven,
Words land like birds Upon my lined paper. They flutter nervously, Chirp without ceasing
In The Dream
In the dream your image is just around the bend, your finger beckoning
Flowers From A Wedding
After the wedding, her parents took bouquets to a nursing home where patients clapped their hands, remembering weddings and music and love.
Memories of other centuries live within this instrument, slipping along twisting streets within ancient walled cities.
In Taos, pueblos are striped with ladders
leading to blue doors like pieces of sky.
Inside, braves wrapped in blankets
burrow close to a fire, shivering
as they dream of nimble ghosts
who scramble high and higher in moonlight.